


(He's) Definitely a Keeper

by estherr



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Genderswap, Inspired by Real Events, Mild Language, girl Zayn, girl!Zayn, inspired by an xojane comment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7235479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estherr/pseuds/estherr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course he had bloody taken the day off work just in case she asked for his help with moving to her new place. Of course. It figured, Zayn thought miserably, that Liam as an ex-boyfriend was still superior to most current boyfriends on their best days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(He's) Definitely a Keeper

Zayn sat and stared at the text message displayed on the screen of her phone. It was from a number she had deleted five times in the last six weeks and four days (but who’s counting), only to re-add it each time, typing in the numbers by heart, usually with tears welling up in her eyes.

It was from Liam.

_Hi Zayn, spoke to Lou yesterday & he told me u’r still not sorted with the moving stuff pleas let me know if u need me 2 help I’ve got the day off just in case._

She was going to kill Louis, she really was. Right after she had another small breakdown over the way Liam had carefully spelled and formally capitalised her name, instead of the old _zaayyyyn_ or _babe_ or _beuutiful_. He had even used apostrophes for God’s sake and there was only one spelling error. It was awful.

Of course he had bloody taken the day off work just in case she asked for his help with moving to her new place. Of _course_. It figured, Zayn thought miserably, that Liam as an ex-boyfriend was still superior to most current boyfriends on their best days. And even after the break up six weeks and four days ago, a.k.a. the worst day of her life, he still wanted to help and support her in any way he could.

When she’d gotten the acceptance letter for the Masters program at University of London, over 300 kilometres away, Liam had been there with her, arms wrapped around her, whispering reassurances into her ear. Finally he had taken the envelope and opened it and unfolded it for her, reading it out to her when she couldn’t bear to look at it herself.

“Babe! You got in! You got in!” He had yelled with delight, laughing joyfully as he’d picked her up like she weighed nothing, spinning her around while she whooped and waved the letter in the air. He’d finally put her down and kissed her soundly, running his fingers through her hair, pulling back for a moment to gaze into her eyes.

“You’re so smart babe, so amazing,” he’d murmured, his big brown eyes shining, “I knew you’d get in, I knew it.”

Zayn’s phone buzzed again, startling her out of her memories. She looked down and felt her heart seize up. Another message from Liam. Mechanically, she opened it and read.

_Honestly u can just tell me the address & I’ll drive your stuff & u could get the train or somethin if u don’t want to ride with me. I just wan to help because of u’r dad’s leg and stuff. But totally up to u._

She felt her breathing start to get shaky and shallow, her hands starting to tremble ever so slightly. It had been just too many things, all one after the other. Her grandfather’s recent death, the stress of applying for and being accepted into Masters programs, planning her moving out of home to a new city hundreds of miles away. It was all too much, and her mother’s worried glances and her father’s incessant comments about how this boy Liam wasn’t smart enough for his Zayn, and he didn’t want to her to end up barefoot and pregnant before she’d finished her education and gotten a job was like the straw that broke the camel’s back. So she had broken up with him.

Zayn's fingers felt heavy as lead weights as she slowly and painfully, with much deleting and backtracking, finally tapped out and sent a message.

_Hi Liam, Dad’s leg is on the mend, but that wud be really good if u could help. The big stuff is just my bed + mattress, bookcases, and my painting stuff. The rest is probs just clothes I think it cud all go in one trip in a trailer. Thanks so much, really appreciate the help. Zayn._

She deleted the row of “xoxoxx” that her fingers typed automatically at the end of the message, replacing them with her name, just in case Liam had come to his senses and deleted her from his contacts. She had barely put down her phone when it buzzed, making her jump. Liam’s message was short and to the point.

_Hi Zayn, No worries. Me & Andy will be at yours tmrw morning at 7. Glad your dad’s leg is getting better. _

Zayn carefully picked some clothes out of a suitcase to wear the next day, packed the last of her things, then had a shower, where she abruptly realised that in about 12 hours she would be seeing Liam again for the first time in six weeks and four, no, five days, almost seven weeks, and she promptly had to sit down on the floor and try not to hyperventilate about it for 20 minutes or so.

Liam and his best mate Andy turned up the next morning at 7am on the dot, towing a covered trailer hooked up to Liam’s old Holden Astra. Zayn met them in the front yard. She held a cigarette between shaking fingers, trying to concentrate on breathing. She hadn’t seen Liam for a while (six weeks and five days, she was absolutely counting), and she wondered if he would look the way she felt, as if she had swallowed broken glass with her orange juice that morning and slept on railway tracks all night.

He looked alright. A lump rose to her throat at the sight of the patch of stubble he must have missed while shaving, and the dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise, dressed in a black t-shirt, jeans and steel-toed boots, with her favourite red checked shirt tied around his waist, he looked like her Liam.

“Morning,” he said, walking up to her. He stopped a few feet away, keeping his distance, as if he were afraid of being too close to her, as if she might burn him with proximity, or do something awful, like break up with him again.

“Hi,” her voice was so raspy it was barely audible. She coughed and tried again. “Hello.” They nodded awkwardly at each other, painful polite smiles on both their faces. They jumped as Andy shouldered his way up next to Liam and nodded at Zayn.

“Alright Zayn? Everything upstairs? We better get started.” Andy had always been a bit of a fun-loving arse, throwing out the occasional racist or sexist joke, but he had never treated her with anything but respectful friendliness out of consideration for Liam. Even now, although from his point of view she had dumped his best friend and then wanted to use him for removalist purposes, Andy just obediently followed her weak-voiced directions on where to put her suitcases, and nudged Liam up the stairs with him to get her mattress and bed frame.

Zayn didn’t have that much stuff to begin with, apart from all her art equipment, including some big unused or half-finished canvases and easels that Liam himself carried down as carefully as if they were newborn babies. There were also her big bookcases that were filled with poetry and classic and modern novels along with the graphic novels and comic books (many of which Liam had lent to her or bought for her, or they had read together). She saw Liam glancing over the shelves, and felt a stab of guilt.

“Did you want them back?” she asked, explaining as Liam turned to stare at her in confusion, “I mean, the comics you gave me, I mean, I could, like-if you wanted-” Something seemed to be stuck in her throat, she coughed and her stumbling words ground to a halt.

Liam shook his head emphatically, taking a step back as Andy entered the room again.

“No, no Zayn, they’re yours now. I’m glad you liked them-you should keep them.” Forehead creasing earnestly he tried to smile, but couldn’t quite seem to manage it, and quickly turned to consult with Andy on whether they should empty the shelves or wrap them and carry them down as is.

In just a few short hours, they were all done. Zayn’s room was empty, and the trailer was full, and her parents and Saf were standing in the front yard, along with old Mr and Mrs Shalhoub from next door, ready to wave her off. Her dad really shouldn’t have been standing up on his broken leg for too long, which was a good excuse to keep things short. Zayn’s mum had already promised to visit in a couple of weeks to see Zayn’s new place, and Saf was going to visit on the next long weekend too, so there weren’t too many tears.

“Thank you so much for all your help, Liam and Andy,” Zayn’s mum said, then glanced at her father and raised her eyebrows significantly, adding, “I really have no idea what we would have done without you.”

“No worries, our pleasure,” Andy smiled, shaking her hand and sending a quick wink to Saf which made her blush and probably sent Yaser’s blood pressure up a few notches, judging by the look on his face. Liam quickly gave Andy an unsubtle shove in the direction of the car and told him to move the junk on the back seat, before turning back to them, an obviously forced half-smile on his face.

“I’m just happy I could help, I’d-” he stopped for a moment, his hand coming up to rub nervously at the back of his head, then suddenly continued as if he couldn’t keep the words back any longer, “I’d do anything for Zayn, I, I really would, you know, to help her and support her. Whatever she needed, if she needed it.”

Zayn couldn’t bear to look at him as he abruptly turned and headed to the car, instead watching her parents’ faces to catch their reactions.

Her mother was biting her lip, her eyes full of sudden sympathy, as if she’d suddenly realised why her daughter had been sobbing her heart out and acting like a zombie the past seven weeks, because how could anybody lose Liam and cope any better?

Her father looked like his leg was starting to ache and they’d better wrap this up quick, but his goodbyes were quiet, and there was something very thoughtful and considering in his eyes as they strayed to follow Liam who was carefully and meticulously checking one more time that the trailer was properly attached and the doors securely fastened (he’s so careful and responsible, Zayn thought with an ache in her chest. She often had used to joke about what a responsible dad type he was).

Zayn hugged and kissed them all one last time, and promised to call when she got to the new place, and when she’d settled in, and every time after that, then before she could cry anymore, she quickly hopped into the backseat of the car.

Liam was sitting in front of her in the driver’s seat, so that all she could see was the back of his head and his strong, sun-browned hands on the steering wheel in the ten and two position. Andy sat next to him in the passenger seat, arm on the windowsill, gazing out the window. Liam waited until she was buckled in safely, even asked over his shoulder, “You all ready?” and didn’t actually start the car until she’d said yes, and begun to wave out the window to her family as they stood there, watching the car pull away.

It was late afternoon, the sun beginning to sink below the horizon when Liam and Andy carried the last boxes into her new place. Her two new house mates, who were also post-grads at the same university, had been friendly and welcoming, bringing takeaway curry to share for dinner from the “best place in the neighbourhood, we eat there like all the time”. Andy had accepted their offer easily, grabbing a fork and plate and smiling and charming the two young women with his self-deprecating comments about how he always loved helping out a mate, and a good deed was its own reward, etc.

Six weeks and five days ago Zayn would have rolled her eyes and nudged him in the ribs and told him to stop talking shit. He would have put on an injured look and told Liam his mean girlfriend was bullying him again, and Liam would have laughed, and wrapped an arm around Zayn’s waist, and told her to pick on someone her own IQ. And she would have probably leaned up and kissed him at that point, feeling unutterably warm and secure and loved and-

A lot had changed in six weeks (and nearly six days). Instead Zayn went to her room to find Liam and call him to the kitchen for curry. When she pushed the door all the way open, she stopped short at the sight of Liam bending over her bed, tugging and pulling at her favourite set of pale blue striped sheets that had somehow gotten unpacked and spread over the mattress.

“What are you doing?”

He paused in his actions for a moment, almost guiltily, then continued lifting the far edge of the mattress just enough to slip the sheet in under the corner and tuck it securely, as he spoke over his shoulder.

“I’m making your bed, Zayn.”

She leaned against the doorway, feeling completely drained of energy. She didn’t say anything else, just stood there and watched, as Liam quickly and efficiently unpacked her quilt from a box (how did he even remember which box it had gone into), spread it over the bed and turned the edge down invitingly. Then he silently dug out her pillows (she always needed at least two to sleep with) and their cases, freshly washed, put them on, and arranged them at the head of the bed. When he was finished, he just stood there for a moment, hands in pockets, inspecting his handiwork.

“Thanks,” Zayn murmured dully. She was pretty sure this was what dying felt like. She wanted to scream at him to leave, to get out of here before she did something desperate, like beg him not to leave her, not now, not ever, not even when she did something as stupid as break up with him for all the wrong reasons. Instead she just stood dumbly, while Liam slowly turned to face her. Her heart stuttered at the tell-tale redness around his eyes.

“It’s just, I thought you’d be pretty tired, and it can be overwhelming unpacking all your stuff like,” he cleared his throat roughly and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, “At least this way-at least you can get a good night’s sleep before you face it all tomorrow, eh?”

“D’you want some curry?” Zayn blurted, cringing immediately at her own words. Liam just shook his head, lips pressed together in a small, painful smile.

“S’alright, me and Andy better get going, gotta get the trailer back by 9.” Before she could say or do anything else, he had edged past her in the doorway (so careful not to let any part of their bodies brush) and was calling to Andy that it was time to hit the road.

They parted again on the front footpath. Andy had mostly brushed off her thanks with a brisk, but not unkind “Good luck, hope you get it all sorted,” before slipping into the driver’s seat and gunning the engine, while Liam shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground in front of her, his jaw clenched.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Li,” Zayn began, only for both of them to freeze awkwardly at her use of the nickname. Were nicknames not allowed? Were they supposed to go around calling each other Miss Malik and Mr Payne until the end of time now that they weren’t together anymore? Were they ever even going to see each other again? Especially now that Liam had the perfect excuse of a 300km distance to avoid her.

For one wild moment, Zayn imagined running into Liam on a visit back to Bradford, only to have him introduce his beautiful new girlfriend to her, and had to swallow hard on the bile that rushed to her throat.

“It’s fine Zayn, happy to do it, I-” he stopped, then suddenly pulled his hands out of his pockets, making an abortive move towards her, then pulled back at the last moment, just before his fingers grazed her forearms. Instead he closed his hands into fists and kept them pinned to his sides, as if preventing himself from reaching for her again.

“You what, Liam?” Zayn couldn’t help prompting him, staring into his face as if it would be her last chance.

He took a deep, shaky breath. “I meant what I said you know, to your parents this morning,” his gaze captured hers, and held.

“What you said?”

He nodded. “I’d do anything for you, Zayn. I said that and I meant it. No matter what happens, no matter where you live, what you do. That’s all I want, to support you and help you, if you need it,” he continued, his voice getting thicker and raspier as he spoke, “I-I just want you to be happy, and to be ok.”

Zayn felt tears welling in her eyes, which she tried to blink away, only for them to spill down her cheeks, as a shuddering sob broke from her lips. In an instant, Liam’s hands, his strong, beautiful warm hands were cupping her face the way he always did; as if she were made of glass, something precious and fragile. His thumbs stroked her skin, brushing her tears away.

“Shit Zayn, babe, I didn’t want to make you cry, I’m so sorry, please don’t cry sweetheart, please don’t cry,” he murmured desperately, as her own hands came up to clutch handfuls of his t shirt, pulling him close enough so he had to readjust his grip to cup the back of her head, winding his fingers through her thick hair as she hid her face against his chest.

“You’re gonna be so brilliant here, Zayn, you’re gonna do so well in your studies, and everyone is gonna be blown away by you, and everything’s gonna be fine, I know it,” he said into her ear, and Zayn sobbed even harder, because how the fuck? How the fuck had she let anyone or any shit circumstances make her believe that getting Liam Payne out of her life was the right thing to do?

Eventually, she managed to get herself under control, and just stood for a moment, leaning her head on Liam’s chest, while he carefully rubbed soothing circles on her shoulder blades. Distantly she noticed that Andy had turned off the car engine, and was waiting silently in the car as the light dimmed and the street lights flickered on one by one over their heads.

“Y’alright now?” Liam asked gently, and just the tenderness in his voice at that moment would have been enough to break her all over again, if she hadn’t already, in the last few seconds, made up her mind.

“I’m not alright, Liam,” she said. Her voice was a bit wobbly; she took a moment to steady it, and continued, “I haven’t been alright for six weeks and five days, and I won’t be alright until I undo the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

A little melodramatic, but it got the message across. She watched the realization dawn over Liam’s face as he stared down at her. It was literally like watching the sun rising or something equally poetic and ridiculous. Whatever; she’d known from the first moment he geeked out about the Avengers movie with her that this was going to be ridiculous, and poetic. And perfect. And something she couldn’t live without.

“Zayn, are you-do you mean-” he stopped, his voice going unsteady. His hands tightened on her shoulders almost to the point of pain.

“Liam, just to be clear, can we please get back together? And can you promise you will never let me do anything so mental as break up with you ever ever again?” She was crying again, but it was ok; he was crying too, and laughing at the same time. She was crying, but it felt so good, as if all the red hot agony and dark dull rotting misery that had been filling her like poison for the last six weeks and five days had been drained out and washed away, leaving her clean and new and light as air.

“ _Zayn_. Zayn, yes,” she loved how much he liked to say her name, “Love, I can absolutely do that. I can do that. Fuck, I’m never letting you let me let you go again,” Liam blurted, crushing her against him, only for the two of them to break into hysterical giggles as they tried to parse what he’d just said.

It took another few minutes for them both to calm down, both of them high on relief and exhilaration, and sheer joy at being together again, murmuring promises and endearments to each other between kisses, until at last Andy beeped the horn.

“Congratulations, I’m incredibly bloody happy for both of you idiots, but unless Zayn’s house mates don’t mind us bunking in their place, we gotta go Payno,” he called out the window, a mixture of exasperation and fondness in his tone.

“Shit, and I’ve got work tomorrow, I swapped shifts with Niall so I had the day off,” Liam groaned, but didn’t relinquish his hold on Zayn, who squeezed her arms tighter around him.

“Look, love,” he said, “Tomorrow’s Thursday, it’s only two days until the weekend. What if I came and visited you this weekend and we can, you know, talk it all through,” he smiled down at her, and Zayn felt herself practically buzzing with excitement, until Liam’s brow creased with a sudden unwelcome thought.

“What’s wrong babe?” she asked, and he bit at his lower lip worriedly.

“I just remembered, wasn’t your mum planning to come and visit this weekend to see you settled in? I don’t suppose you’d want me around for that,” Liam looked so downcast, but bravely resigned, that Zayn just had to reach up and pull him down into another kiss, just because she could again.

After a few long, spine-tingling moments, she released him and said firmly, “That’s not going to be a problem, Li. You can come here and my mum can meet you properly.”

She was immediately rewarded with a cautiously delighted smile spreading over Liam’s face.

“Really? It’s not going to be a problem? You sure?” he asked. Zayn thought of the look on her mother’s face that morning, as she had seen the care and respect with which Liam had handled her art supplies, the way he had stopped to surreptitiously look at their family photos on the mantelpiece on his way up the stairs. All her mum needed was a chance to get to know Liam, she knew it. Liam just being himself, who he was, how he was; that would do the rest.

“Not going to be a problem. I’ll tell them tonight,” Zayn said, and laughed delightedly as Liam swept her off her feet and spun her around a couple of times.

When at last they had let each other go, and she had waved them off, Zayn hurried back into her room and flopped on her freshly made bed. Her cheeks ached with smiling, and she felt like she could fill a canvas with colour; with big, joyous bright splashes of yellow and pink and orange and lime, all swirled together in a dizzying dance. Ew, it sounded kind of awful. Maybe she needed to calm down before she got her paints out. Or maybe she could sketch something. Liam’s hands. Liam’s eyes. His smile. All good ideas, she thought giddily to herself. She could get him to pose for her when he visited. In two days!

She rolled to the side and grabbed her phone from where she had placed it on top of one of the packing boxes, all ready to enter a reminder in her phone calendar, just so she could look at it every five minutes and smile like an idiot, something like LIAM’S VISITING YAY!

Upon unlocking the screen, Zayn saw there was a message from Liam sent just a minute ago, a message that had her heart seizing up with happiness at the spelling errors and emojis and gratuitous exclamation marks and the long string of xxoxooxx’s at the end. There was also a missed call and voice message from her parents’ number.

When she dialled the number, expecting her mother to be calling to tell her she’d left underwear in the washing basket at home or something, instead Zayn heard her father’s voice.

_“Hello Zayn, this is your father speaking,”_ the message began, and Zayn rolled her eyes fondly, mouthing ‘well duh’ to herself.

_“Your mother and I hope that you’ve arrived safely and settled in. I hope you’ll message us soon to let us know,”_ there was a faintly admonishing note in his voice, and Zayn squirmed a little guiltily.

_“Zayn, I called because I had to say something to you, about that young man, about Liam,”_ Zayn stiffened and sat up, her eyes wide. Her finger hovered over the “Disconnect Call” icon on her screen. Did she really want to hear this? Did she really want her newfound resolve to be undermined by her father’s comments? It was too late to stop now. She had to be strong; she had to hear this, and then be ready to defend their relationship, no matter what it cost. Liam was worth it, after all.

_“That young man,”_ her father paused, and there was something unexpected in his voice, something she couldn’t quite recognize.

_“From what I understand, he took a day off work, came to our house at 7 in the morning, rented a trailer, packed all your possessions and transported them hundreds of kilometres in his own car, then unpacked them all for you, and he did this weeks after you broke up with him and I told him he wasn't good enough to look at my daughter.”_ There was another short pause, and a soft sigh, and it dawned on Zayn, that new tone in her father’s voice as he spoke. It was respect.

_“There are times when I have to admit that I have been wrong, Zayn, and this is one of them. And I think that he is one you should not let get away. I only hope it's not too late, and I hope you can forgive me for interfering.”_ He cleared his throat noisily, before the voice mail cut out, out of time probably, and Zayn swallowed a lump in her throat, rubbing furiously at her eyes as they filled with tears for probably the fifth or sixth time that day.

Without hesitating, she pressed the option to redial, and when her father answered, said, smiling through her tears, “Baba, it’s not too late. For me and Liam.”

There was a sigh, before her father replied firmly, “That's good, Zayn, that's very good.”

“Oh, and Baba?” Zayn added, grinning like she hadn’t in over six weeks (but who was counting anymore), “I’m _so_ gonna play that voicemail at the wedding.”

And a little over a year later, she did.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There was an article on xojane called something like "What's the most romantic thing a SO has done for you" (go read it if you want to cry), and among the many comments, the following comment just screamed girl!zayn ZIAM to me. 
> 
> "I had broken up with my boyfriend and was moving to a new city a few hundred miles away for a new job. He helped me pack, loaded the u-haul, drove it to my new place and helped me unload and unpack. After that even my very reluctant father told me I should probably not let him get away. We're married now."
> 
> T_T


End file.
